


We're So Much More Than Pointless Fixtures

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dorian is a Trollbot, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Male Character POV, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian wants to learn about sex. Much to John's chagrin, he enlists him and Valerie Stahl to demonstrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're So Much More Than Pointless Fixtures

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I think we all knew this was solely a matter of time for me.
> 
> Surprisingly, not robot sex…yet.
> 
> IDK I kind of really like the Stahl/Kennex (Stahlex? Stennex? Stannex? Jalerie? WHAT IS THEIR NAME?) set up because she's clearly the adult in that room, and it cracks my shit up every time. And we all know Dorian is like American TV's biggest Troll who is generally 2048% done with John's shit.
> 
> Ergo…this.
> 
> Anyways, a Verismo is a special coffee maker made by Starbucks where you can do lattes with two buttons. I own one, and they're really very neat! They currently can't do dry cappucinos, but I'm sure in 2048 they'll be able to. 
> 
> Valerie's bath wash is real, it's made by Bliss, and you can buy it at Sephora. It really is blood orange and white pepper! Likewise Shalimar is my favorite perfume. The lingerie is real, too, it's the Ardientemente line from La Perla, and obviously the shoes are by Christian Louboutin. She's a TV detective, and TV detectives always are able to magically afford this stuff okay? 
> 
> I am guessing the bourbon was Woodford Reserve because most bourbons have distinctive bottles, and going from screencaps, that seems to be the most likely candidate since obviously they can't show a label without paying the company for permission. And yeah, John is the only one who calls her Sandra. The AH wiki backs me up on this, because I checked to make sure I hadn't heard wrong. 
> 
> I almost titled this "Dorian is the Worst: An Autobiography by John Reginald Kennex," but I figure I can save that for the sequel. The title I chose is from "Rocket" by Beyonce. Also there's one line in here I couldn't resist giving to John that's a Star Trek joke. Just the one, is all. Sorry. 
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm not really sorry.)
> 
> Beta'ed by the lovely Taverl.

John was busy savoring an excellent bowl of pork belly ramen when it happened. 

Really the ramen was just...perfect and sublime. The broth was as good as the fabled Momofuku broth in Manhattan, the pork belly was tender and just the right amount of salty and savory...everything was excellent. He needed to remember to order it next time.

Dorian sighed next to him, rolling his ridiculous blue eyes. “It gets very tedious, you know,” he said. “Watching you eat.”

“Humans gotta refuel,” John said. “Not all of us just recharge in the station for eight hours.”

Dorian clucked his tongue, which was as annoying as the seventy-eight other times he had done it since becoming John’s partner. 

John took this, mistakenly, as acquiescence, and went back to his noodles. Really, this shit should win a fucking medal. It was amazing. He washed the noodles down with some green tea when Dorian said, “I want to learn about sex.”

Too bad that green tea went fucking _everywhere_ as John unceremoniously sprayed it all over everything within a three foot radius. Dorian even ducked. It was that serious.

Coughing, John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You _what_?”

“Sex,” Dorian said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “I want to learn about sex. I understand the basic functions, but I do not understand the finer points. I have no working knowledge of...how it feels. Or what it’s like to share something that intimate. So. I’d like to learn.”

John coughed so hard his eyes watered. “Why are you even bringing this up to me? Really? Me? Now?”

“I have heard that there is no time like the present,” Dorian said, and if John didn’t know better, he’d swear his eyes sparkled. “Would you rather I brought it up in the middle of a case?”

Fuck no.

“Point grudgingly taken,” John said as he mopped up the tea. The waiter came to make sure all was well, and John just waved him off with his right hand. “Can’t you read a book or something?”

“I have read several books about sex,” Dorian said in response. “Masters and Johnson. _The Joy of Sex_. _The Kama Sutra_. _Asking About Sex and Growing Up_. That last one had some pictures that unnerved me because of how young the participants looked.”

“Fair enough,” John said, not really wanting to delve further into things. 

“The point is really that the books can’t explain feelings, John,” Dorian continued, his face shifting to an earnest look John had only seen him wear when dealing with traumatized witnesses. “I want to know how it feels, John. I want insight into the intimacy, not just facts about how much ejacul---“

He was cut off by John’s hand frantically covering his mouth. Before Dorian could remove his hand, because John wasn’t stupid and knew how much stronger the DRN was and how if he pushed it he’d be thrown through the walls, John dropped his money and grabbed Dorian, hauling him out to the car. 

Once they were out of earshot of others, John dropped his hand. Dorian blinked a few times before shrugging his shoulders and straightening his blue coat. 

“Were you really,” John begins. “Really? _Really_? Going to tell me about how much ejaculate is common during sex. In a crowded restaurant. Where I eat frequently. Really?”

Dorian’s face looked surprised but John knew the devilish look in his eyes. The fucking little shit. “Was that not appropriate?”

“That is so far beyond inappropriate it left it behind five miles ago speeding in the opposite direction,” John said. “And furthermore, no, I don’t want to know, before you volunteer the information. I don’t need a set measurement for the amount of spunk considered normal. Thanks.”

Dorian looked perplexed for a moment before his eyes cleared. “Oh spunk as in semen, not gumption and _joie de vivre_. Sorry, man, even with my colloquialism program, I can get slang terms mixed up sometimes.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, as loud as a human being could sigh. When he opened his eyes, Dorian’s face was filled with expectation. John sighed a second time. “If I tell you about it, will you never ever bring this up again? And I mean ever, including scanning my balls or veiled comments about how badly I need to get laid.”

Dorian had shifted into a placid state much like a calm stream in the middle of Spring that baby deer drink out of or some kind of New Age hippie garbage like it. John closed his eyes and shook his head a few times.

“You have a deal,” Dorian said after another few moments of silence. “So. What is it like?”

John rubbed his face with one hand. Before he could answer or explain, his phone beeped. He held up one finger to Dorian as he checked the caller ID; it was Sandra. “Kennex,” he answered.

_John, we’ve got a call, looks like a murder-suicide up on Cedar Crescent. I need you and Dorian to look into it, and I’m uploading reports to him now. Something doesn’t smell right about this case._

“On it,” John said as he stepped around the car to the driver’s seat. He pushed the button to start the engine as Dorian slid in next to him. “We’ll be there in less than thirty.” 

John hung up the phone, putting on his sirens and pulling out of the restaurant. They sped towards the scene, both of them focusing on their job from there on out.

\-----

The case took days to wrap up, but as it turned out, embezzling and screwing your PA when you’re a Fortune 500 CEO wasn’t a good path to take long term. Regardless, John and Dorian pulled several days with minimal rest to solve it.

John stood next to the Verismo in the break room, pushing the buttons for a latte the way he preferred. The espresso and milk poured into his mug, and he sighed. Sleep would come later, for now he had reports to get on Sandra’s desk.

“Rough one, wasn’t it?” Valerie said from next to him.

He hadn’t even heard her arrive.

Too tired to be startled, John sighed. “If you hadn’t picked up on that transfer to Elsa’s account, we’d still be at it,” he said as he turned to her. 

Valerie looked as tired as he felt, her hair hanging somewhat limp around her shoulders. Her face was pale, though she still looked beautiful, and John had to remind himself that she was a coworker. “Anyone could have missed it, honestly. It was fractions of pennies skimmed off gas transactions.”

“Yes,” John agreed as he took a sip of his latte. Then he moved so Valerie could get her own coffee. “Fractions of pennies skimmed off gas purchases totaling up into eight figures.”

Valerie opted for a dry cappuccino, which John filed away for later before he could talk himself out of it. “Well, if it hadn’t been me, someone would have caught it. Probably Dorian.” She grabbed her mug, drawings on the sides of children coloring in chalk on pavement with script reading “A is for Art” at the bottom. There was some kind of round brown fluffy thing with eyes behind the kids. Valerie blew on the coffee for a minute before taking a sip, her eyes closing and the muscles in her long neck playing in such a way John was transfixed. “Well. We all know it wouldn’t have been Richard, at least.” 

She leaned past John, reaching for the hazelnut syrup. She put two quick pumps in her coffee followed by a longer third one. She took another sip, this time making a small noise of pleasure.

“That’s better,” Valerie said with a smile up at him. “Sometimes I just need the sweetness, you know?”

John nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” Contemplating for a minute, he perused the syrups. Hazelnut, caramel, vanilla, and peppermint. John opted for caramel, putting a pump and a half into his own coffee. He took a drink, and yeah, it was better. Not to denigrate the fine people at Starbucks, but taking a bit of the bite off the espresso wasn’t exactly unwelcome. 

Valerie leaned backwards against the counter with a bit of smugness in her smile. “See?”

“It’s not bad,” John admitted. “Not as good as that bourbon. What was it again?”

“Woodford Reserve,” Valerie said. “I figure, when I need to indulge here at work it has to be the best I can get.”

“It was good, very smooth,” John said. “Sorta reminded me of orange marmalade.”

Now Valerie looked impressed, raising one eyebrow as she favored him with a smile. “You spotted that, did you?”

“Yeah,” John said as he drank more of his latte. 

Valerie’s smile widened, brightened. “You have a sophisticated palate. Most people don’t pick up on that.”

John cleared his throat, opting to get another coffee so he didn’t have to look at her. “Well, I...I do okay.”

Valerie’s smile shifted into a look that, of all things, reminded John of Anna. She bit her bottom lip, taking another long drink of her coffee. Her left ankle crossed over her right, her weight resting against the counter. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and John noted how even in the dim fluorescents of the break room, the auburn highlights shone like brushed silk. 

It took him a moment to register she was speaking. 

“John?”

“Sorry,” he said. He was acting like a fucking fourteen year old. “Just tired.”

Valerie nodded like she understood, and John noted how low the v-neck on her shirt was. This promptly led to him feeling like a dirty old man, so he averted his gaze back to his almost over-flowing-due-to-his-negligence-in-pushing-the-wrong-button mug. 

“Shit,” he said. There was no way to carry this back to his desk. Valerie shook her head a few times before taking pity on him. She covered his hand with her right one, aiming his mug over hers. She then poured some of his drink into her mug, just enough so that it wasn’t about to spill with the slightest movement. Her hands were soft, and John again had to punch his inner high school freshman in the face. 

Still though...she smelled nice, like a combination of blood oranges and cracked white pepper. It was a good mixture, and it made John wonder whether it was from a perfume or something else, like a shampoo or a body wash.

She shifted away, and John managed to hide his disappointment. He repeated what he’d told himself over and over again since he met her that first day.

_Don’t shit where you eat, John._

He cleared his throat, turning back to his coffee. “Thanks,” he said without looking at her. 

Valerie didn’t say anything as she went back to drinking her own, pausing only for another spritz of hazelnut. She sipped it again, smiling at her concoction. “The Knights play this Saturday,” she said after a minute. “And I have an extra ticket. I scored owner’s box seats. Want to come? Owner’s box means free food and beer.”

John looked at her again, and, yeah, the offer was incredibly tempting and not just for the company. It’d been a while since he made it to a live match, and definitely he’d never managed getting tickets like hers. The little voice in his head started chanting his mantra but he quickly kicked it to the curb, locked it up in a safe, and dropped it to the bottom of the bay. “You’re on.”

Valerie’s smile was luminous. “Good. It starts at five, so I figure we should get there by four-thirty at the latest because parking is a nightmare. I can pick you up, and we can split the parking fees. It gets a bit pricey sometimes.”

“Yeah it does,” John agreed. “Sure. I’ll email you my address.”

“Perfect,” she said. She finished her coffee, pausing to wash out her mug. They ran the dishwasher twice a day, but she opted to hand wash hers, presumably to keep the colors fresh. “I’ll be at your place no later than four fifteen. Wear your gear if you’ve got it.”

“Goes without saying,” John said with a smile, a soft one he hadn’t much cause to use for a while.

Valerie turned to him, a smile of her own on her face. “Perfect,” she said again. After placing her mug on the drying rack, she turned, her hair again swishing across her back as she headed towards the door. She paused, looking over her shoulder. “See you, John.”

“Later,” he said. She went back about her business, and his eyes caught the swaying of her hips in her skinny jeans. It took him a moment to remember that he had an almost full cup of coffee that was lukewarm, and he drank it, grimacing at the temperature. 

He went about hand washing his mug like Valerie had hers when someone cleared his throat behind him. He glanced sideways; it was Dorian. “What’s up?” he asked as he rinsed the cup.

“Your pulse is elevated,” Dorian said. “And for the first time since we met, your aura isn’t covered in the crimson darkness of the damned. Did something pleasing happen?”

“No,” John said, not sure why he felt compelled to lie. “Just some post case congratulations.”

Dorian leaned against the doorframe with a slight frown. “I saw Detective Stahl leave this room. She appeared to be...effervescent.”

John sighed, turning his attention back to his cup. “She’s generally a chipper person for an analyst.”

Dorian didn’t speak again for a while, he just watched John clean up with those too-blue eyes. When John turned back to him, his face was doing the disco lightshow shit. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dorian said. “Just uploading to the case files. There was a detail I...forgot to send earlier.”

John’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. “You? Forgot? Isn’t that impossible?”

Dorian shrugged one shoulder. “I’m more human than human sometimes, John.”

Figuring that was the only explanation he was going to get, John rolled his eyes, carrying his mug back to his desk. Dorian followed behind, and when John sat facing him, his face was having a rave again.

“I suppose that’s a detail for Sandra, too,” John said.

“I’m cross-referencing data from our last dealings with InSyndicate to other case files,” Dorian explained. “However, I will have to run this all night in the background of my processor.”

“Works for me,” John said. “I need to eat anyhow. And it’s been almost forty-eight since I got more than an hour nap in.”

“Should I assume this means you’re going home?” Dorian asked.

“I’ll be grabbing some food on the way, but yeah I’ve got a date with my couch and some beer,” John said as he stretched.

Dorian’s eyebrow twitched. “Yes. I am sure that is all you have a date with.”

If John hadn’t already suspected his partner was up to something, that comment clinched it. “Okay, out with it. What are you doing?”

“I just explained that I am cross-referencing...” John raised a hand, and for once, Dorian got the message and stopped talking.

“No. What are you up to? You’re acting sneaky, and I have to admit, it’s not a good look for you,” John said.

The lights died on Dorian’s face, making John feel relief of all things. “I can’t be up to something, John. As like you as I am, going behind the back of my partner is against my directives. I therefore can’t be ‘sneaky’, as you put it.”

The excuse was somewhat thin, but Dorian was probably right. As unpredictable as they could be, the DRNs were programmed, or so Rudy explained that first day, to ultimately defer to their human partners. The likelihood that Dorian was doing something to stab John in the back wasn’t very high.

He couldn’t shake the belief that something was going on, though. And he’d find out what at any cost.

\-----

Aside from relatively simple and benign (well, as benign as murder got) cases, the week ended without incident, and John found himself faffing about his apartment on Friday night debating on what take out to order.

Sandra’s commentary on his lack of cooking skills came to mind as he contemplated finding the time to maybe take a class. Living off restaurants and delivery was kind of expensive. Anna had done all the cooking when they stayed in, and it wasn’t so much that John missed her still as it was he missed having fresh cooked food every night.

He opened a Brassneck Brewing Passive Aggressive, taking a long pull from the bottle. He hadn’t done pizza in a while, and that seemed like the best bet because he had managed to get tired of his noodles. 

Or maybe a steak.

His door buzzer sounded, and without checking the camera to see who it was, he pushed the button to let them in. It was probably one of his non-cop buddies coming by to check up on him; it’d been a while since he’d seen Jim at least.

His back was to the door when it opened, and he heard two sets of footsteps. John turned around while taking a sip of his beer, choking on it when he saw who they were.

Valerie and Dorian.

Hacking a few times due to a mishap of the wrong tube variety, John stared at them both.

Valerie wore a black trench coat tightly belted at her waist and fastened up. For a second John thought maybe she wasn’t wearing anything under it, then he wanted to hit himself for being so presumptuous. Though, he did notice her legs were in stockings leading to a pair of black pumps. The shoes made her height difference from him less significant; she was almost the same height as Dorian. It was an interesting change from the practical boots she wore to the precinct. 

John gave Valerie a confused smile before turning his ire on his partner. “Shouldn’t you be plugged in somewhere?”

Dorian smiled. “I’m right where I want to be, man.”

Valerie gave Dorian a curious look of her own before turning to John. “I got a message,” she said, glancing back to Dorian. “That I am beginning to think wasn’t actually from you.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” Dorian said. “Who would do that?”

John’s glare was poisonous, probably the most evil look he’d ever given anyone or anything including the scum of the Earth he arrested on a daily basis. 

Valerie’s eyebrow rose further. “Regardless, I got a message from your number with a time, place, and dress code.”

John grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and there it was in his outbox. One message to Detective Valerie Stahl. 

_7:00 at 325 W 14th St. Sixth floor loft. Wear a dress._

John replaced the phone in his pocket and stared hard enough at Dorian it was a wonder he didn’t melt. Dorian’s eyes lit up as he half-grinned.

“I realize you two have your first date tomorrow,” Dorian began.

John sputtered. “It’s...we’re...”

Valerie gave John an expectant look, which promptly caused him to shut up. It was a date. It was totally a date, everyone in the room knew it was a date, and there was no point in acting all ten-year old _she’s not my girlfriend_ about it.

Rubbing his temples, John sighed. “It’s a date. We’re going on our first date.”

Valerie’s expression was pleased, a small smile lighting up her brown eyes. 

Dorian also looked pleased, his grin taking up his entire face. “Good job, man.” He took two steps forward, standing in between John and Valerie. Dorian placed one hand on John’s shoulder, then one on Valerie’s. “I’ve been doing some reading about humans and courtship.”

Valerie’s expression was amused, interested, curious, and a bit perturbed. 

John continued to glare at Dorian. “Courtship hasn’t been used un-ironically since World War I.”

Dorian sighed. “Dating, then, and I noticed something in all of my research which includes viewing so-called romantic comedies. Why are they called that? They all have the same rough plot, so they stop being funny after the first four or so. And why are they so popular?”

“Because they’re simple,” Valerie said. “They’re easy to ignore to make out with your partner for the evening.”

Dorian looked even more confused. “Why not just make out at home then?”

Valerie shrugged. “It spices things up,” she said. “And at the beginning of a relationship, there’s a phase where you can’t stop touching each other. So it may not even be planned.”

Dorian lit up. “The ‘Honeymoon’ phase.”

“Yeah,” Valerie said with a smile.

John rubbed his face with both hands. Realizing he’d been rude, he turned to Valerie. “Here, let me take your coat,” he said. “I was just about to order dinner.”

Valerie turned her back to him, undoing the belt in the process. John slid it off her shoulders, and he folded it over his arm, taking it to his rack. Valerie turned to face him, and then he noticed her make up was heavier than usual. Dark smoky eye make up, a pale pink gloss, and blush. 

He also noticed her dress.

It was knee length, forest green, sleeveless, and tight, fitting her curves like she was poured into it. Something caught in his throat, causing him to clear it, as he realized he was in his oldest jeans and a threadbare white t-shirt. The red soles of her shoes peeked out from under the heels, and he silently cursed Dorian’s existence for springing this on him.

“Can I offer you a drink?” John said to her. “I’ve got a nice 12 year scotch...”

Valerie smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

John went to his wet bar and got the drink, pouring her two fingers neat the way she drank her bourbon. He handed it to her, and when she took it, he noticed the gold bracelet on her wrist. Her nails had also been done, a dark wet-looking black lacquer adorning them. 

John’s heart fluttered as he took in all the effort she made. Before he could ask her about what she’d like to eat, Dorian clapped his hands. “As I was saying, I noticed something about dating rituals that I find interesting and perhaps even silly.”

“What’s that?” Valerie asked him. She licked her lips, the gloss staying in place as she did so. 

“How nerve wracking it is,” Dorian said. “The first date tends to cause people anxiety. They worry if they’re reading too much or too little into the behavior of the other person. They worry about if they’ll get a kiss. They worry about what type of place to take them. They worry about their clothes, their breath, their hair, the condition of their car, the _make_ of their car...it’s kind of a lot to deal with.”

“It can be,” John found himself agreeing.

“Most of all,” Dorian said. “They worry about sex. If they’ll have it, if they won’t, if the person will be okay with their physique, if the person will get the signals...there’s a lot of worry about sex.”

“There can be,” Valerie said, giving John a look he couldn’t quite read.

John had no clue what Dorian was going on about, until he said, “So in my brilliance, and with the knowledge that the two of you are going out for the first time tomorrow, I decided to spare you both the questions,” Dorian said, practically bursting with pride. “And this will answer the questions I mentioned having to you the other night, John. So. You two are going to have sex tonight.”

Valerie did not look surprised. Rather, her expression meant she had already figured out what Dorian was getting at. A highly amused smile played across her lips, and if John didn’t know better, he’d have thought she snorted.

However, John was rapidly descending into _losing his fucking shit_. “Are you out of your Android mind?” John said.

Dorian’s smile didn’t even flicker, let alone fade. “Hey, man. I told you I want to learn what sex is like for the participants. I figured a demonstration would be better for everyone than just a point-by-point speech. I can run scans on you both during, listen to the sounds and everything, whereas the other way I just get a firsthand account from one person who likely hasn’t had it since the Beatles were together.”

Valerie pressed her lips together, but the stars alight in her eyes told both John and Dorian that she was trying not to laugh. 

Ignoring the insult, John grumbled under his breath. “You don’t think it’s at all weird or sick that you’d be standing around watching and giving color commentary?”

Dorian shrugged. “Some people like having someone watch.”

Regaining her composure, Valerie placed her hand on John’s cheek, turning his attention back to her. “It’s essentially the same principle as making a sex tape, you know?”

John stared at her. Then he stared at her some more. Finally, he choked out, “You’re actually okay with this?”

Valerie’s smile shifted to be sweet and sexy all at once. It was a dynamite combination John found hard to resist. “He has a point, John. This saves us the trouble of the first date jitters tomorrow. And this way, we get to have sex tonight. I know everyone at the precinct thinks of me as some kind of Pollyanna, but at my heart I’m a pragmatist. And after getting dolled up, I’d really rather I get laid than not.” The smile changed to be nothing but red-blooded heat. “Wouldn’t you?”

The way blood rushed to his groin signaled that the baser parts of his personality agreed, but John’s brain still had a (small) voice in the night’s proceedings. “But,” he managed weakly.

“But---?” Dorian asked, looking genuinely curious.

Valerie looked curious as well, though her lips formed a pouty frown. The pink in her gloss did things to John’s head like make him wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his cock, and he quickly realized that Dorian and Valerie had points. 

And it had been a long time, longer than John cared to admit.

“I withdraw,” John said as he drew himself up to his full height. “Let’s...um...”

The pout shifted back to that lusty smile, and Valerie winked at John. “I’m assuming since you live here there’s a bed somewhere.”

“There, um, is,” John said. He held out a hand to her, and she took it, her fingers sliding in between his. Fortunately, he made it that morning before arriving at the precinct. The sheets were relatively fresh, too. “Here.”

He led her through the loft to the bedroom area, and Valerie paused to take in the space. “Nice painting,” she said with a cock of her head towards the piece hanging over the bed.

Dorian sighed, and already John had forgotten he was present. “No, see, that’s what I don’t want. The whole point of this is so you two don’t resort to small talk and clichés. You’re supposed to relax and get this out of the way, so things are easier and less awkward for everyone.”

John and Valerie turned to him. “Everyone _who_?” John asked.

Dorian bounced on the balls of his feet. “There may be a betting pool. About the two of you. At the precinct.”

This time Valerie didn’t swallow her laughter. She actually straight-up guffawed, covering her mouth with her free hand.

John gaped. “Excuse me?”

“Richard started it,” Dorian continued. “Even Rudy and Maldonado have money in the pot. Everyone sees how you two talk to and look at each other. Better sooner rather than later, I’d say.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed, and he frowned the most severe frown he’d ever made. “Let me guess. You bet too.”

Dorian blinked. “I don’t have any money, John. How would I bet? It’s not like I get paid.”

John huffed. “Shitbot 5000,” he said. “That’s what I’m calling you from now on. Forget ever having been Dorian. Shitbot 5000.”

Dorian’s expression was offended. “You do realize that I’m why you’re getting sex tonight, right? As opposed to...you know. I won’t finish that. It’s too awkward, even for me.”

John’s glare could likely have been felt in space.

Valerie gave both of them fond looks before turning back to John. “Let’s get back to business, okay?”

John looked down at her, less than usual thanks to the shoes. “What are they, five inches?”

Valerie nodded, getting what he meant. “It doesn’t matter lying down,” she said with a smirk. “And I mean, they’re actually very comfortable. Not sure I could chase after a perp in them for long, but for a night out I’ve had worse.”

John looked down at them again; sleek black patent leather with pointed toes and stilettos. He contemplated how to gracefully ask her to keep them on, but before he could say it out loud, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. 

The gloss was slick against his dry lips, but not sticky or anything like some others he’d encountered as he closed his eyes, pressing into her, trying to let her know he wanted it without words. It must have worked because Valerie opened her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he did, sliding his tongue past her lips. It occurred to him then that Valerie (he wondered if he could call her Val) was a fairly powerful kisser; she took what she wanted, he noted, as her tongue twined with his in an expert fashion. They danced together, and John possessively wondered how many other men she’d done this with. 

One of his hands found its way into her hair, pulling her closer. The other curved around her waist, noting how small it was. Valerie shifted as close to him as she could get, and he was again hit by the scent of blood oranges and white pepper, this time with an overlay of vanilla and spices. John broke the kiss. “Shalimar?”

Valerie smiled. “Not just a good palate, but a good nose. I don’t like floral scents, because they trigger my allergies. I have really bad hay fever sometimes.”

John nodded. “Not overly partial to flowers myself,” he said. He bent down the short distance to kiss her again, sliding his lips across hers. He could feel her gloss shift, being spread across his from the pressure of his mouth. Sure enough, when they broke apart that time, it’d been smeared across part of her cheek. 

Dorian cleared his throat, reminding both of them there was a third party present. “I understand that foreplay is necessary and enjoyable,” he said. “But I think being on the bed would be better.”

John rolled his eyes. “I don’t need coaching, thanks.”

Shrugging, Dorian said, “Could have fooled me,” under his breath. 

Before John could retort, Valerie kissed him again. She kissed him so hard he almost lost his footing, and John stumbled backwards a bit, landing in a seated position on the edge of his mattress. Valerie stayed bent over him, standing in between his legs as she made no bones about what she was there for. 

The instincts took over again as John reached a hand up her back to check for a zipper. There was none, so his other hand checked underneath her right arm and there it was in the side of the dress. He deftly pulled the zipper down all the way, and Valerie made a sound in her throat he took to be approval.

Once he finished his task, she stepped back from him, pushing the straps down off her shoulders and letting the green silk drop to the ground at her feet. She stepped out of it without any issue, and John looked at her, his eyes raking from her collarbone down to her thighs.

She hadn’t worn a slip under the dress, which was convenient he supposed, but what she had worn flooded his body with fire, probably mostly because it was counter to the practical and neutral colored clothing she favored at the precinct. The bra, panties, and garter belt matched the silk of the dress, but were sheer. The bra had a delicate lace decorating it, almost but not quite obscuring her nipples from view. Likewise, the panties had a satin panel for modesty, but also left little to the imagination. The garter belt was sheer dark tulle with dark green decorations on it, and the elastic straps fastened on her skin-colored stockings were the same green as her dress. 

Jesus.

“Jesus,” John breathed as he looked at her.

Valerie smiled, one manicured hand sliding across his shoulder. “Like what you see, Detective Kennex?”

“I’d be a fucking dumbass not to,” he said. One of his hands touched the top of her thigh above the stocking, and it was perfectly smooth. Her skin felt as soft as velvet, all smooth and supple. John favored her with a raised eyebrow. “Are you a closet girly-girl, Detective Stahl?”

Before she could answer, Dorian chuckled. “See, that’s what I want. Actual flirting. None of that small talk malarkey.”

John sighed, dropped his head down. “Please stop talking,” he implored Dorian.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Did I do something offensive? I simply meant---“

“It’s easier for me when you don’t talk,” John said. His hand didn’t stop caressing Valerie’s thigh, though, and she parted them a little with a flush staining her cheeks and above her breasts. “I can’t forget you’re here if you keep...you know.”

“I feel like Detective Stahl should be insulted by that,” Dorian said. “Are you?”

“I think considering everything you can call me Valerie,” she answered. “And not really. In my head, it’s like having a video camera or webcam, but John knows you better than I do. It’s probably like having one of his bros in the room.”

Before either of them could comment further, Valerie dropped smoothly to her knees in between John’s legs. John quickly forgot what the hell he’d even been saying. Valerie’s fingers scratched at his thighs through the denim of his jeans, hard enough to be pleasurable, as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. She looked up at John, the dark black liner and gray eyeshadow making her eyes appear both more soulful and dangerous than usual. 

Lifting the hem of his shirt, Valerie smiled up at him. John caught the hint, raising his arms above his head and helping her yank it off. It got tossed somewhere across the room, and Valerie took in the site of his naked chest. 

One hand reached up, stroking his biceps along the dragon. She tilted her head to the side, cataloguing the image and committing it to memory. Then her hand moved, drifting down to his collarbone. It slid across it as slow as molasses, Valerie biting her bottom lip as she inspected him.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for them,” she said after a moment.

“The tats?” John asked. 

“The freckles,” Valerie clarified. “They’re all over your shoulders and chest. You don’t really have them on your face, so I just assumed...”

John nodded. “When I get out in the sun more, they disappear. But you know the weather here doesn’t lend well to that.”

Valerie nodded in return. “Plus cancer.”

“Yeah,” John said, leaning back on his hands. “Plus cancer.”

Valerie shifted, undoing the button fly of his jeans with her right hand. John balked a bit, realizing how hard he was.

“Er,” he said, off to an eloquent start. He cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”

Looking up at him in spite of some of her hair covering her face, Valerie favored him with a smile. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“Well, we do work together,” John said, but even to him it sounded like a pitiful excuse. “I just...awkwardness on Monday. I don’t...we...”

“You’re both adults,” Dorian supplied. John and Valerie both turned to him; he had removed the blue coat, standing in just his gray shirt and black pants. He leaned against a brick wall with nonchalance, the look on his face a mixture of clinical observation and child learning to read for the first time. “You can handle it.”

John pursed his lips. “Thank you, Peanut Gallery.”

Valerie looked back up at John, but he kept his eyes trained on the DRN. “He’s right, you know,” Valerie said after a pause. “We are both adults. It’s just fun, is all, and if something more comes of it, well, I won’t say no. Would you?”

This turned John’s attention back to her, and, as usual, she was right. It wasn’t that big of a deal, even though his head kept trying to make it one. They’d do this, go to the game the next day, and Monday would be fine. That was all there was to it. 

“Nah,” John said in answer to her question. “We’ll take every bit as it comes.”

“Is that supposed to be a double-entendre?” Dorian asked, lighting up. “Because according to my colloquialism routine, _coming_ also means---“

“Dorian,” John said with a loud sigh. 

Dorian stood up straight. “Well, does it or doesn’t it?”

Valerie’s grin turned a bit sharp around the edges, and John swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

His fly was completely open, and Valerie signaled for John to lift his hips. He did, and she pulled the jeans down his legs to land at his feet. He kicked them completely off one foot at a time, and made a note to focus only on her from there on out. He wasn’t wearing socks, thank God because taking them off wasn’t sexy. Not as unsexy as leaving them on, of course, but still. 

Valerie’s hand drifted from the cotton of his boxers to his thighs, fingers shedding sparks as they traveled. If she noticed or was weirded out by the synthetic leg, she didn’t even make an outward flinch giving it away. John relaxed a little more, having not even realized he was worried about that. She paid it no mind at all as she moved her hands back up, sneaking them under his boxers. 

With a wicked grin, Valerie leaned forward, opening her mouth around the tent in the crotch of his underwear. John couldn’t stop the groan from escaping as she sucked on him through the fabric, his cock shifting from just hard to _Christ, sex now_. The remnants of her lip gloss left marks across his underwear as she worked on him, sucking with particular attention on the damp spot by his head. 

John closed his eyes, dropping a hand into her hair at the back of her head. She made a pleased sound, or at least John assumed it was pleased as she didn’t glare at him. Opening his eyes back up, John took in the sight of her on her knees, red soles of her shoes pointed upwards, hair mussed, and her nipples visibly hard through the sheer tulle of her bra. 

It was...calling it a nice picture didn’t do it justice. Valerie Stahl kneeling like that for him was more like a fine piece of art painted by one of the greats. Caravaggio, maybe, or Gentileschi. 

Valerie’s right hand left his leg, landing in between her thighs. She rubbed herself through the panties, making a sigh into his cock. Deciding that wasn’t fair, John cleared his throat. Valerie looked up at him, about to slide him through the slit in his boxers. She raised one eyebrow.

“Come here,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. He cleared his throat with that high school feeling again.

Valerie stood, and John wrapped both his hands around her waist. His fingers twined in the ends of her long hair as he kissed her stomach, his mouth trailing hotly down towards the garter belt. Valerie’s eyes fluttered closed as his hands got busy. One undid the clasp on the back of her bra, the other sliding two fingers across the underside of the matching panties. 

The fabric was damp, pleasing John because it meant she was having as much fun as he was. Her bra opened, and Valerie slid it off, dropping it by his bed. His hand left her back to touch one of her breasts, holding it and stroking her nipple between his fingers. 

Valerie bit her bottom lip, the flush on her cheeks growing deeper and spreading further down her skin. “You can do it harder,” she said, her voice breathier than normal. “I won’t break.”

John looked up at her, and the look on her face as that of tacit approval. Knowing better than to ignore direction, he did as he was asked, tweaking her nipple with more strength. Making a noise, Valerie shivered, arcing her hips towards his fingers. Sliding the panties to the side, John’s fingers drifted to her clit, pressing against it. She shivered a second time as he began to stroke her, a little huffed moan escaping past her lips, her mouth going a bit slack. 

Letting go of her breast, John undid the fastenings on her stockings. He pulled the panties down enough so gravity did the rest, and she paused to step out of them. John grabbed her close again, pulling her down to the bed, twisting them so she lay on her back beneath him. 

He paused to kiss her, hard and wet, before trailing his lips down her face to her throat. From there it was simple to lick a path down her to her breasts, sucking on one with a hint of his teeth. Valerie approved, he figured, as her back arched, and her fingers dug into his scalp. 

John drifted lower down her, lips and tongue marking her in the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, towards the garter belt when she said, “This works better when I’m on top.”

Pausing, John raised his eyes to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, and he rolled onto his back next to her. She took a moment to brush her hair off her face, and John was struck not only by her loveliness, but his luck. “I’ll sit on your face.”

Feeling like it was Christmas, John quirked his lips up in a grin. “If you insist.”

Two of Valerie’s fingers caressed his lips. “First thing I noticed about you was your mouth...”

John didn’t say anything, opting instead to lick the tip of her fingers. She pressed them past his lips, and he sucked on them. Her soulful eyes darkened, drifting shut. 

“It’s nice,” she continued, “to finally experience it.”

Opening his mouth to let her go, Valerie withdrew her hand. She paused to reattach the straps of her garters to the silk stockings, shifting so she rested with her pussy close to his face on her knees. John realized she still had the shoes on as his hands stroked up her thighs.

Leaning forward, he went to work. 

Her scent was all musky and feminine, her taste slightly more so as he explored her with lazy, languid swipes of his tongue. Valerie uttered an approval almost like a porn star, a deep but high moan pouring out her throat. John licked her clean of her wet arousal before his tongue moved to her clit. 

Valerie rocked down towards his mouth. “ _Unhn_ , God,” she said. Again her back arched, her head dropping back towards her shoulder blades as she moved, riding his tongue by canting her hips towards him.

John didn’t mind, he loved it when partners got enthusiastic like she was. He flicked his tongue across her clit, another moan coming out of her as she bore down a smidge more. He let go of her left thigh to burying his index and middle fingers in her, pushing up against the soft spot he found within her. 

Her thighs starting to tremble on either side of him, John focused on his task again as his tongue massaged her clit faster. Her moans had turned into high-pitched whines as her hands buried in her hair as she rocked faster and faster into his face. 

John pressed hard with both his fingers and his tongue, and Valerie stiffened, shuddering above him with a soft exclamation of his name. Tremors shook her, John soothing her with the flat of his tongue. 

“Oh,” she said when she regained her composure. “That was nice.”

John pulled back from her, his mouth wet and red. He sat up as best he could, picking her up again by the waist and dropping her on her back on the bed. He paused to shuck off his boxers and grab a condom from his nightstand, haphazardly ripping open the foil. Once he had the rubber free, Valerie smiled, gesturing for him to give it to her. 

Knowing better than to question, he again followed her lead as she placed the condom in her mouth. Smiling around it, she lifted herself back up, bending over John’s cock. With one hand, she held it in place as she rolled the condom down his shaft inch by inch using nothing but her lips. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and John couldn’t stop the groan it caused.

“You ready?” he asked as he angled her back on her back, but this time with her legs up over his shoulders. The points of the stilettos rested against his skin; he’d likely have marks after, but who gave a shit?

After settling himself between her legs, John pushed forward, his cock entering her smoothly. She was still fairly wet from her orgasm, and John thrust back out of her, before entering a second time. Valerie’s eyes closed, another one of those whines filling the air as he did it again, setting a slow, hard, rhythm as he pounded in and out of her.

Valerie’s eyes closed, her head drifting back and forth across the sheets as she grabbed her breasts with her hands, fondling them and toying with her own nipples. John watched her, her mouth opening and making more whines as he fucked her.

Her heels shifted position, digging the points of the stilettos into his back as he kept going. “Harder,” she said as her hand drifted from the mound of her breast to her clit, two fingers rubbing it to match the movement of his cock. He obliged her, and she cried out. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Trying not to be a teen boy for the millionth time since they met, John tried to focus on something else so he didn’t come before her. He needed to do laundry. The Knights were on a winning streak. Richard Paul’s smug shit-eating asshole face. And other such thoughts that were just boring (or alternatively unappealing) enough to keep him going without repelling him so much he lost it.

Valerie’s eyes had squeezed shut, her body rocking on the bed with his thrusts. The thoughts weren’t going to help for much longer, he realized, as he sped his movements. It must have helped because Valerie cried out his name again, her shoes digging hard into his back as she shuddered below him from a second climax. 

Sweat dripping down his face, John paused, picking her up by the waist and pulling her down on his lap. Her legs looped over his arms as he thrust up into her, Valerie bouncing with his movements. She made little gasping noises as he pounded into her before freezing, coming so hard he stopped breathing and couldn’t see. 

Realizing, once he regained enough composure to do so, that he was clutching her a bit tight, he loosened his grip. Valerie sighed, her hair plastered to her face as she shifted, pulling off him to kneel near him. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He grabbed the now-full condom, carefully pulling it off so it didn’t spill and putting it in the nearby wastebasket. Turning his attention back to her, he brushed the hair off her face so he could see her. “Thanks.”

Valerie smiled. “The pleasure,” she said, her voice dripping like honey, “was mine.” She closed the distance and gave him a long, sweet kiss. John sunk into it, wondering if he’d be up for round two when he was suddenly reminded that they had an audience.

By that audience member giving them a slow clap.

The kiss broke, and both John and Valerie turned to look at Dorian. Valerie looked amused, but John’s expression was much shittier to the Synthetic.

“Damn,” Dorian said as he continued to clap. “That was much better than the porn I saw online.”

Valerie raised her eyebrows. “I think the difference you saw is people who are interested in each other versus people who are paid to be there. Nothing against porn, but the lack of an emotional bond between the participants can be off-putting for some people.”

Dorian nodded as his grin shifted from pleased to somewhat shit-eating. “So...are you saying there is an emotional bond between you two?” He actually, of all things, waggled his eyebrows.

John, who had been in the process of putting his boxers back on, froze. He managed to finish this task before turning his attention to his partner. “Was this just all a... _thing_ to force our hands?”

Dorian didn’t answer, but the happy bouncing on the balls of his feet told them both everything.

That little fucker.

His smile turning down a notch or two, Dorian shrugged. “Admittedly, I was genuinely curious about sex and dating. But you know...two birds, one stone.”

Valerie sighed, turning back to John. Meanwhile, John’s hands clenched into fists as he contemplated how difficult his life would be if he punched the shit out of Dorian. The metal making up his bone structure would likely shatter his hand, but maybe not before he got a good hit or two in.

Dorian caught the look on his face and rolled his eyes. “Oh get over it, man. You got laid, you’re going out tomorrow, and again, you got laid. What else even matters?”

“You leaving,” John growled. “Shitbot 5000.”

Sighing, Dorian shook his head. “Fine, fine. I’ll go back to the station. You two enjoy your date tomorrow.” 

John, in only his boxers, gestured for Dorian to head to his door, and Dorian did so. He opened the door so he could lock it behind him, and halfway out of it, Dorian paused to give John a smile. “Get take out and spend the rest of the night doing something else that’s really popular among humans in romantic entanglements.”

Against his will, John asked, “What?”

Dorian clapped him on the shoulder once. “Cuddling.”

Before John could argue, Dorian left, and he slammed the door closed behind him, locking all of the locks in case he randomly decided to come back. Granted, after watching Dorian flip the van, a steel door wouldn’t necessarily stop him, but he liked to think his partner was polite enough to just knock a few times.

John gabbed the take out menus and walked back to his bed, where he saw Valerie had put on his discarded white shirt and kicked off the shoes. She sat, her legs tucked up under her, as she examined her hair for knots. 

John flopped onto the bed next to her. “Chinese, Thai, or Indian?” he asked.

Valerie smiled.


End file.
